


Three

by ioanite



Category: Disney Animated Fandoms, The Lion King (1994), Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Community: disney_kink, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark, Death, Gen, Prompt Fill, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amelia Legasse, forever mocked for her cat-like ears, volunteers for the Hunger Games. She has no illusions about what she's facing; she just has three simple objectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompt: "All Fandoms-Hunger Games Crossover; Anything. Anything at all. "
> 
> I was the third person to fill this prompt, and thus made oblique references to the other two stories, though they aren't overly obvious. I just wanted to give credit where credit is due.
> 
> WARNING: There is a lot of violence, blood, and death in this story.

From the  minute she’d come of age, Amelia Legasse had wanted to be chosen for The Hunger Games. Not because she wanted the glory, or the opportunity to feed District 3, or even the chance to see the Capital. To her, it was a chance for redemption.

No one knew what had caused it, but Amelia had been born with a pair of pointed cat ears. They could hear all right—better than all right—but it was how they looked that mattered to everyone. Her parents loved her, of course, and looked after her, but they had no more children for fear that the ears would manifest again. And it was well-nigh impossible to make friends, since all the children, no matter their age, thought she was a freak. The younger ones merely giggled behind their hands, and the older ones would look at her with pity, but the ones around her age group were the ones who taunted, tugged, and otherwise tormented her. She quickly learned how to defend herself, and even if she came home with bruises and torn clothes, she could console herself with the thought that she’d won. That was why the Hunger Games appealed to her so deeply; she’d had practice that would serve her well. If she could only get out there and show her district what she could do, perhaps the mocking would finally stop.

But she was now eighteen years old, and her name hadn’t been drawn. As everyone gathered to hear the names read out for this year’s Games, she realized it was time to take matters into her own hands. So just as the hand dipped into the bowl, she stepped forward and yelled, loud enough for all to hear, “Amelia Legasse volunteers to be the female tribute!”

People started whispering at once. The adults seemed amazed that someone would volunteer for this. The younger ones, of course, had a more mocking tone. “The little tiger thinks she can take on twenty-three others? Ha!”

 “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. One look at those ears may be enough to cause the District 11 and 12 kids to flee in terror!”

Amelia heard the taunts, but didn’t rise to the bait for once. She just stood there, head held high, until she was allowed to walk to the stage. After the male tribute was chosen (a sixteen year-old named Jim; Amelia recognized him but had never fought with him), there were speeches and instructions, which Amelia listened to grimly. When she was finally allowed to see her parents, they hugged her close. “Be brave,” her mother said through tears, “And remember that we’ll always be proud of you.”

“I know,” Amelia said, “And I’m not afraid. I’ve been planning for this for years. And I have three goals to focus on. I won’t have time to be afraid as long as I’m trying to achieve them.”

“What goals?” her father asked, his voice a little strained. She told them, and after a moment’s silence, they hugged her again, tighter this time. “We’ll be watching. Make it true.” Her mother choked out.

Amelia straightened up, feeling more confident than ever before. “I will. You can be certain of that.”

***

Three…two…one…an alarm blared, and everyone started sprinting towards the cornucopia. Amelia bounded forward and scooped up the first pack she found, slinging it over her back with a minimal break in her stride. She grabbed another pack and held it behind her head, protecting her neck. She would be able to spot danger from her front and sides, but attacks from behind were her biggest concern. Later, with the forest and rocks for cover, she would be less vulnerable. “Protect your back” had always been her first rule of survival at home. Right now, she’d have to make do with what she could find.

When she’d been running things through in her mind, she’d assumed everyone would go for her first, as her ears were too distinctive to blend in with the mass of bodies. But it seemed everyone was too focused on trying to get supplies, only fighting when anyone got in the way. Once she realized this, Amelia started zigzagging, trying not to get too close to anyone. She vaulted over another pack and managed to dive inside the cornucopia. Unzipping her second pack, she scooped in an armful of whatever was closest and immediately zipped it shut again. Then she grabbed the first weapon she spotted off the wall, a long knife, and turned to make her way out.

Someone swung at her, and she immediately dropped to the ground and rolled, avoiding the blow. She lashed out with the knife and heard a yell, but didn’t look to see the damage; she just hauled herself to her feet and ran, pressing the pack to her chest. Here and there she could see people grabbing items or struggling with each other, and she immediately veered to the right, towards the woods and away from the fighting. It wasn’t until she was completely surrounded by trees that she stopped, pressing her back against a tree and sitting down to catch her breath. There would be time enough to explore her surroundings, take stock of her supplies, and figure out where everyone else was. Right now, she needed to say a silent thank you for her survival.

 

*Goal 1: Survive the Bloodbath*

 

***

When it came to hiding, Amelia was an expert. In a crowd, she would always be the first one spotted, but if there was any shadow, any shelter, the slightest inkling of an escape route, she knew how to take advantage of it. These forests were all she could ever ask for. With a little bit of leverage, it wasn’t long before she was able to rocket up a tree at the first suspicious sound, or dive into the undergrowth. Once, someone had passed right by her without knowing she was there. She’d decided not to track them, not wanting to push her luck, but it was reassuring to know that she could be invisible when the moment called for it.

She _did_ do some scouting, however, always listening for footsteps or voices and following at a discreet distance. Occasionally, she got close enough to watch, generally up in a tree or with her back against a boulder. Although she always kept her knife ready, she had no intention of attacking anyone just yet. What was needed right now was information; who had banded together with who, who had the best items, who was the toughest.

Around the fourth day, Amelia finally seized her opportunity. She was creeping through the woods, following a pair of voices, when she heard a twig snap and jumped for the trees. Once she’d steadied herself on a branch, she peered down, pulling out her knife. After a moment, a shadow appeared in her line of vision, and she carefully pulled a branch aside to get a better look. It was Gaston, the tribute from District 11. Unlike her, he was all but swaggering through the forest, several knives hanging from his belt. He walked as though he owned the place, which is what made Amelia’s smile curl dangerously as she tightened the grip on her knife.

In the pre-Games interviews, Amelia had discovered that this year had held an unprecedented amount of volunteers. Besides herself, there had been volunteers from Districts 1, 2, and 4. But Gaston had had his name drawn properly, and despite the bravado he put on for the cameras, she’d been watching him long enough to learn that he wasn’t the perfect hunter he claimed to be. Oh, he was good—from what she could gather, he’d killed two tributes during the bloodbath—but he was a bit careless when it came to watching his surroundings. Such as right now.

Gaston had just passed under her hiding place. She took just a second to gauge the jump, then dropped down from the tree right on top of him, her free arm wrapped around his neck. He gasped and raised one muscled arm to try to pull her off, but she jabbed the knife into his side, and he cried out in pain. “Please…” he choked out, “We can work together, take out those guys from Districts One and Two! Just stop!”

Amelia just tightened her grip. “You’re not the teamwork type,” she said, yanking out her knife, “And neither am I.” She clapped a hand to his mouth and jammed the knife into his neck, hot blood pouring over  her hand. He was still struggling, but he was already getting weaker, and she could feel his legs start to give way. Leaving the knife where it lay, she tugged out one of his own knives and aimed for his stomach this time. One good thrust and he collapsed to his knees. She pulled out her knife, and he fell face first onto the dirt. She stabbed him once more in the back, hoping to speed up his death so she could gather up his items and find somewhere safe; his first yell might have attracted someone’s attention. After an agonizing minute, the cannon sounded. She raised her head in triumph, thrusting a fist into the air. Then she knelt over the body and started removing his knives. More weapons would come in handy, especially as the weaker tributes fell away. And if she was lucky, this particular kill might have caught the attention of some sponsors…

 

*Goal 2: Make an impressive kill.*

 

***

Amelia wasn’t sure how many of them were left now. The female from District 4 was doing surprisingly well, and she’d spotted Jim, her fellow District 3 tribute, running through the trees one night. Of course, the District 1 and 2 tributes were still alive and fighting hard. She had a feeling at least one of them would make it to the final one-on-one battle.

She was prowling through the forest, looking for a good place to spend the night, when the woods suddenly opened up around her. What had once been rocks and trees was now a grassy clearing, with a river running through it. And standing by the river, in the process of collecting water, were the two District One tributes. Even worse, they were staring right at her.

If it had just been one of them, Amelia might have risked a confrontation. But this was too much for her, and she fled, not caring which way she went, as long as she could find a tree to climb. But she heard a female voice cry out and knew that at least one of them was on her heels.

When her lungs felt like they would burst, she forced herself to stop in front of the nearest tree. Just as she leapt for an overhanging branch, pain shot through her calf, and she collapsed on the ground instead with a yell. Quickly taking stock of her surroundings, she saw blood leaking from her leg, a small knife in the bushes a few feet away…and a tawny female bearing down on her. She unsheathed one of her own knives and hauled herself to her feet, even as her leg cried out in protest.

“Nala!” a voice called out, and a red-haired man appeared by the girl’s side, “Is she pinned?”

Nala had come to a halt a few feet in front of Amelia, obviously looking her over for weak spots. Amelia stood up a little straighter, not wanting to make it easy for her. Then, predictably, her eyes flicked upwards to the pointed ears. “You’re the District 3 girl,” she said at last, “One of the volunteers.”

“You’re one to talk.” Amelia growled back. The moment Nala’s lover had been chosen for the Games, she had stepped forward and volunteered, preferring to die alongside him than to be forced to watch it happen hundreds of miles away. While it was a noble gesture, it had always struck Amelia as monumentally saccharine. What happened if they were the last two left standing? Would she be brave enough to take him down? Or would she make the ultimate sacrifice for his sake?

Nala was still looking at her, and the expression on her face made Amelia pause. It wasn’t the mocking look her peers at home gave her, or the pitying look of an adult. It was…satisfaction? “I saw the way you avoided the attacks at the cornucopia,” she said, “And I heard about your strike on Gaston. You’re clearly a formidable fighter.”

Amelia refused to drop her guard, but the words warmed her slightly. “I’m sure the other Districts don’t think so. All they see is a freak who’s gotten lucky.”

Nala touched her lover’s shoulder, then stepped forward, hands raised in a sign of truce. “Well then, that makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

Though Amelia didn’t drop the knife, she allowed Nala to come closer. When Amelia’s blade was mere inches from the girl’s chest, she finally understood what Nala meant. Her pupils, instead of round, were noticeably oval. “It’s even worse in sunlight,” Nala said softly, “It may be a little easier to conceal, but I was still called my fair share of names over the years. Simba was one of the few people who didn’t seem to care either way. When I saw you up on stage…I could see the same sort of determination in you.”

She stepped back to Simba’s side. “I’m glad you’ve done so well. Maybe it will help other children who were damaged by the war to feel more accepted.”

Amelia’s knuckles were white around the knife, her hands clenched to keep them from shaking. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a shaky breath, “I think I needed to hear that. Just once.”

Nala’s look was almost apologetic. “If we’d met earlier, I might have suggested an alliance. But there are too few of us left now. It’s better to go it alone or in pairs. You understand.”

Amelia nodded. “I’m ready.” She removed her pack and tossed it to the side. “Don’t want too much blood on it,” she said, “There’s some valuable gear in there.”

Then she dove sideways, forcing herself to her feet despite the throbbing pain in her leg. Nala and Simba were flanking her on either side, and the terrain was unfamiliar enough that she didn’t want to run off and find herself in an even worse situation. She pulled out another knife and began to bob and weave, lashing out whenever she could, eyes darting between her two attackers, trying to predict their movements. Her body was in a half-crouch, her arms pressed close to her sides, trying to protect her vulnerable spots. Even as her energy faded and the strength in her injured leg slipped away, she found satisfaction whenever a blow of hers landed, creating small but bloody cuts across arms or noticeable rips in clothing. When she got a particularly good strike on Simba’s shoulder, and he hissed in pain, she even managed a grin.

But she couldn’t keep it up forever. Eventually, Simba managed to position himself just so and stick a knife into her side. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to keep standing, thrusting the knife sideways and clipping Simba’s hand. Nala struck then, nicking Amelia’s breast and staining her shirt. Her body was already starting to feel lighter and warmer as the blood gushed out of her from multiple sources. She gave up on moving and just twisted her body back and forth, trying her best to avoid the blows. Another cut to her back finally proved too much for her, and her legs gave way. Even then, she kept fighting, aiming for knees and calves and weakly kicking if they got in range, until her strength deserted her completely and the knives fell from her hands.

Even as her vision started to dim, her hearing remained acute. She heard Nala’s murmur to Simba—“Stop. She’s going.”—and the rustling of cloth as weapons were sheathed. There was a ripping, tearing sound, and she knew one of them was bandaging their wounds. Then someone knelt beside her, a hand on her wrist. “Goodbye, Amelia of District 3,” Nala said gently, “May the world be kinder to you on the other side.”

There was just enough left in her to smile before even her hearing cut out.

 

*Goal 3: Die fighting.*


End file.
